Sacred Act
by Vema
Summary: Sequel to Goddess Worship.  Zevran/Wynne.  A little laundry goes a long way...  Mature.


Sacred Act

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by: Vema

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_Author's Note: This is a sequel to _**Goddess Worship**, _so please read that first if you haven't. Zevran/Wynne again! I swear, I can't stop it. I love these two as a couple. XD Anyway, please remember to review, whether you like it or not. I love praise, but criticism probably makes me a better writer. So, to recap, savor the story and REVIEW please._

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How did she let herself get talked into this? Wynne stumbled along a path through the forest, arms full of disgusting, filthy laundry, following Zevran to the small stream about a half mile away from the campsite.

_Oh, yes. _ It was Alistair's fault. Earlier that day, she had seen him replacing a sock he was wearing with a filthy, crunchy sock she'd found in her bed roll. Improbably, the sock he took off did seem to be dirtier.

Sometimes she thought he was barely more than a boy, and looking at him fumbling about trying to do the cooking or, Maker forbid, air out his bedroll, tugged at her heartstrings. She was getting ready to do her own laundry and had gathered it into a pile. She was wearing thin, off-white shift that she saved for when they were near enough a body of water to make use of it. And, in a fit of apparent insanity, she had offered to do his laundry for him. He had shrugged and handed her his small clothes and his two common outfits, tying a towel around his hips and retreating to his tent. Unfortunately, everyone had heard the offer, and soon there was a pile of clothes at her feet from everyone in the party save Morrigan, who was looking on from her campsite haughtily.

Just as she was wondering how she would handle it all, Zevran sidled over. "Certainly you will require assistance. I've had experience in the laundry arena," he said with a wink. Producing an ill-gotten "basket" (one of Stens breastplates) he loaded up the majority of the pile, filled her arms with the few remaining garments, and strode off into the woods. Now, she was tripping over every root and rock, her stomach doing flip-flops.

They hadn't been alone once in at least a fortnight since their tryst, and she had almost convinced herself that night had all been a fevered dream. But she knew, and her body knew, it wasn't; she'd been deliciously sore for days afterward.

She watched as Zevran threw the bundle down unceremoniously at the water's edge. She put hers down on top of it and took out two bars of homemade soap, the squares lumpy and off white. She always bought some when they were visiting a civilized area. These had been acquired in Redcliffe, and where scented with a variety of herbs. She detected lavender, rosemary, and sage in the scent, and hoped Alistair wasn't displeased.

She had just started to soap up her robes when she noticed Zevran disrobing. "What are you- Zevran, doing laundry does not require nudity!"

"Ah, but the clothes I am wearing will not be clean," he explained, winking as he stripped off his greaves.

"You're wearing drake scale armor," she protested.

"Which will be ruined by the water, will it not?" He smirked and dropped his armor in a pile, hooking his thumbs in his undergarments. "Besides...it's not like you haven't seen it before, is it?"

She averted her eyes. "I swear, Zevran. If this is some plan to take advantage of me while we're away from the group, I will personally hex-"

"No, of course not." She looked up and managed to avoid glancing at his nudity. "It seemed like everyone was taking advantage of you're good nature, that's all," he said, kneeling next to her at the streams edge. "You wash, and I'll rinse and hang."

It became easier and easier to wash each garment and hand it to Zevran for rinsing while ignoring his lack of clothing. True to his word, he worked with high quality and efficiency, rinsing the clothes of the soap quickly and hanging them over convenient tree branches with a flick of his wrist. It really didn't take as long as Wynne thought it would to do so many clothes with him there to lessen the work load, and after a while they were sharing jovial conversation.

"What I don't understand is how you can spend so much time with our... stout little friend," he said, his voice low. "Oghren is...disgusting. And smelly."

"He makes me laugh," she said, chuckling a little. "And his ale...oh, it's to die for."

"So it's just his ale then...?" Zevran said, keeping his eyes on the last piece of clothing, which he was currently rinsing.

"Well, like I said, he's funny. Also, as rash and crude as he is, at least he's always honest about his feelings and -"

"Are you bedding him?"

Wynne's stared in shock as he flung the final shirt over a tree branch. "Excuse me?" she nearly yelled.

Keeping his back to her, he smoothed out several pieces that were hanging nearby. "Far be it for me to tell you who to consort with, I simply thought you'd have better taste."

"EXCUSE ME?"

"I've heard him propositioning you, don't be so surprised." As he finally turned to face her, she saw his face was uncharacteristically serious, his eyes dark.

"Zevran Arainai," she whispered. "You can't possibly be jealous."

"Oh, I suppose you are right. It would be...completely unlike me," he said calmly. "But I do not hear any denials, do I?"

She rolled her eyes and smiled. "No. I'm not sleeping with him. He _is_ disgusting and smelly. And you _are_ jealous."

"Perish the thought!" But his face relaxed and he sidled back over to her, before taking a deep breath and sighing dramatically . "But...I do have a confession to make."

She stood and looked at him suspiciously. "What sort of confession?"

"I did indeed come here to help you with laundry, but...I was also planning to take advantage of you."

Wynne stopped moving, suddenly very aware of how her shift, soaking from the splashing water, was hanging wetly on her and clinging to her skin. The elf stepped toward her as she covered her chest with her arms, and she could feel his nearness like heat against her skin. "Work before play, no?"

he breathed, wrapping an arm around her waist and pulling her towards the water.

"I should never have trusted you," she said, but she was secretly pleased.

"Of course not. I am not to be trusted," he smiled a bit and stepped into the stream, pulling her with him.

The water was pleasant on her toes, but she hesitated. "Why do you deny me?"

"It's been weeks, Zevran. I mean, you haven't exactly acted...interested..."

"I told you before, my Venus of magic, I planned to usurp you as much as possible."

She allowed him to pull her into the water, still self conscious of her body. The last time it had been night, and her skin barely visible. Now, in the blazing afternoon sun, every wrinkle and bag was sure to be visible. At least when she was submerged to the chest her shift billowed in the water. "I guess I thought you were ashamed when you didn't act any differently towards me."

He laughed loudly. "Me? Ashamed? Never... Ah, but that was because you would have been embarrassed! After all your lip service, telling me I was playing a game, etc, I imagined you wouldn't want the others to know." Pulling her against his body, Zevran languidly moved through the water, obviously at home here. "Was I wrong?"

"I..." With a start, Wynne realized she honestly didn't know. She _should _have been able to agree with his reasoning without pause, but with growing horror she realized she did want to put a claim on him. Which was utterly ridiculous.

"Besides, I can tell you're excited..." he said in a sing-song fashion, cupping her breast through wet cloth.

She tried to push his hand away. "That's not fair!" she exclaimed, unconsciously arching towards him.

Her hand was grasped in his, and he pushed it against his groin forcefully. "Now it is," he groaned, and she marveled to feel him already responding.

Once he was certain her hand would stay where he put it, he reached up and pulled down her shift, burying his head in her bosom. He groaned again, murmuring, "You drive me mad..." against her moistened skin, his tongue snaking out to caress a stiffened peak.

"What if- Ah! ...What if the others come...looking for us..."

"Well, I suppose they'll get a show for their trouble," he laughed. Straightening, he captured her lips, holding her firmly against his frame and pushing a hand between her legs. His slender fingers brought her to a hard, fast crest and she clung to him, her cry muffled by his lips.

He caught her as she collapsed, kissing her throat and shoulders, any part of her that presented itself. "See how you respond to me...it's meant to be, my goddess."

Wynne felt her heart exploding, the spirit that held her glowing with approval. "Zevran...I love you," she whispered.

He didn't say anything, but kissed her again, gently, his lips moving over hers reverently. She had known not to expect a return declaration, and it didn't disappoint her. She knew the young elf was less in touch with his emotions than most, having been raised by the Crows, and there were probably hurts in his past she didn't know of yet. And as much as he frustrated her, his conscience seemingly forever on hold for what would please him most, she found it endearing as well.

Together they moved towards the shore, and he laid her down, half in the water, half on the bank. His deft hands hiked her shift expertly, and her legs instinctively found his waist, and he was inside her, filling her completely.

For a moment, he stayed perfectly still, his lips working over her earlobes. "See how we fit together? We were made for each other. The Maker meant us to be," he said hoarsely, and she knew what he was really saying. _I love you too..._

Without knowing what she was doing, her magic took over and snaked inside him. He stared at her, his eyes glowing. "How did you...?"

"I don't know," she answered, feeling him inside her as she was now inside him. He moved, each stroke long and slow and loving, and though she came close to another climax several times, the new connection told him when to slow, when to speed.

She was insane with desire, pleading with him. Each time he moved inward, it was toe-curling flames of pleasure moving through her, within her, and each pull felt like a little death. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, she shuddered and moaned, energy pulsing through her. It was slow and long, a drawn out orgasm that had her gasping and gripping his arms, and she thought it must have been the same for him because he was groaning and running his lips and tongue over her neck nonsensically while he shivered.

He collapsed onto her, his head resting on her breasts as the glow left his eyes, her magic receding. Her mind was reeling. Admittedly her sexual experience was low, but even with the few encounters she'd had at the tower, how had she not found a way to flood another with sensations, give them access to her mind? It was inconceivable that she would now find it with a non magic user, and yet she had. His emotions inside her, hers inside him, like a two-way pipeline created by her power.

"That..." Zevran began, kissing her jawline, "...was the most incredible thing I have ever experienced. You naughty trollop."

Smacking his arm lightly, she said, "Respect your elders."

She immediately regretted the joke, but Zevran only chuckled kisse d her more fervently. "Now, darling, we must quickly dress and return."

"But..." She had a horrible vision of walking into the camp in a wet shift, made more horrifying because she thought Zevran would have no qualms about returning naked.

"Take off the night dress, I'll wash it while you put your robe back on. I wouldn't want anyone else seeing you like _this_," he said luridly. He laughed at himself. "I suppose I was a little jealous..."

With a knowing smile, she stripped and walked out of the slow-moving water, ignoring his cat calls. Within a half hour they were both dressed and on their way back to camp, the dry clothes folded neatly, and in piles according to who they belonged to, on top of Sten's armor. Zevran turned to her, and held his finger to his lips, then silently moved ahead, shifting all the laundry dextrously onto a log near the camp before stealthily replacing Sten's armor. Wynne prayed it was exactly where he'd gotten it from – the Qunari didn't miss a beat. He returned and helped her move silently to where the clothes were piled, then announced, "All right, children! Come get your clean garments!"

Everyone exclaimed on how nice it was to have clean clothes, and how quickly the two of them had accomplished the task. Leliana was asking Wynne where she had gotten the soap, her eloquent words describing the scent as much more than just "lavendar, rosemary, sage" as it had said on the label. Wynne wondered why she didn't write beautiful labels for soap companies, but then remember most of the common folk couldn't read.

She heard Alistair and the Warden thanking Zevran, but suddenly his arm was around her shoulders. "Ah, it was my lovely Wynne who did the work, my friends," he said. His arm dropped as he grabbed his pile and entered his tent, Wynne staring after him. _My lovely Wynne..._ It made her heart stop, and she wondered if the other's had caught his meaning. But they all seemed oblivious, taking their clothing themselves after a profuse amount of thanks. The Warden, a delicate little elven mage named Celeste, asked Wynne if she'd consider doing the laundry whenever they had the chance.

Of course she agreed. It wasn't a hard job, and perhaps Zevran would ...help her again. She smiled and tended the fire, whistling as she thought of what she might make for supper. Wynne didn't see Zevran watching her from the opening of his tent, his smile mirroring her own, and she certainly didn't see Leliana watching the both of them with a smirk.

~fin


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